


Conduct(ion)

by Lady_Kit, Unladylike (Lady_Kit)



Series: Generating heat [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: (not really but that’s definitely the vibe), Caretaking, Ecto-Genitalia (Undertale), Edge is stubborn, Edge’s control issues, Felldyne plays matchmaker, Feral Behavior, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Nesting, Panic Attacks, Penetrative Sex, Pre-Relationship, Rus is trying, Scent Kink, Sexual Tension, Sexual Themes, Sickfic, Unresolved Emotional Tension, idiots to lovers, kind of, that tag was more fitting than any other, they’re bad enough they qualify as a character in their own right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:09:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22933087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Kit/pseuds/Lady_Kit, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Kit/pseuds/Unladylike
Summary: Edge always assumed he could deal with his heat the same way he dealt with any other illness or injury—push through and pretend everything is fine until it goes away.He is very much mistaken. (Fortunately for him, Rus is willing to offer his help.)
Relationships: (Background Cherryblossom), Papyrus & Undyne (Undertale), Papyrus/Papyrus (Undertale), Papyrus/Sans (Undertale), Spicyhoney
Series: Generating heat [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1648246
Comments: 53
Kudos: 190





	1. Chapter 1

Edge liked to make plans. At the end of every day, he scheduled the next, always pleased to check an item off his list. He had backup plans and contingency plans for most probable eventualities. He even planned meals in advance, based on what was available Underground or, now that they were on the Surface, what was fresh.  He enjoyed having a schedule and sticking to it. Which also meant he very much did not enjoy any disruptions to that schedule. Most illnesses could be ignored, and sometimes he could work around an injury. When his heat hit, though, he had no idea what to do.

In a way, his lack of a plan was his own fault. He had, foolishly—pridefully—assumed that Red and the others were exaggerating the affects and symptoms. He’d thought it would be like catching a cold or breaking a bone. A minor inconvenience. Something he could work around but, largely, ignore. 

He’d assumed wrong.

Early in the morning, before the sun was up, he was roused by a searing heat in his mana lines. Sweat beaded on his bare bones, and he kicked free of his bedding, welcoming the kiss of cool air. He’d assumed it was merely a fever, until the heat in his mana lines crested and his soul manifested without his consent.

At the time, he told himself that he’d rest for a few hours—skip his run—and then he’d drag himself to the embassy for his shift. But as the minutes passed, his soul began to cramp and ache. He curled in on himself, breathing through the pain. 

He told himself he could still get up, still stick to his schedule, but the mana began to drip from his soul, smearing across his ribcage.  Disgusted, he tore off his shirt and wiped the spent mana away, only for more to leak from his soul. He stood, intent on finding a towel or _something_ to take care of the mess. As soon as he took a step, the world spun and his knees weakened. He knelt on the ground, panting. A violent shiver wracked him, and his soul contracted harshly. His breath caught, and he doubled over, shutting his sockets as he waited for the pain to fade.

He forced himself to count his breaths, trying to shift his focus from the pain, but the heat was growing unbearable. Magic swirled in the cradle of his pelvis, and at each joint, his nodeshad grown hot and swollen.

Shakily, he grabbed a pillow off the bed and laid down on the floor. 

It was very obvious that he wasn’t going to be able to ignore this and continue about his business as normal. He shifted and shimmied until he was under the bed, grateful he kept the space free of dust and dirt. It wasn’t comfortable in the slightest, but the solidity of the bed above him was a comfort. Another cramp wracked his soul and he bit down on his hand, stifling any sound he might have made. 

In the back of his mind, some part of him knew that he needed to call in to the embassy and let them know he wouldn’t make his shift. He needed to call or text some of his classmates for notes. He needed to tell Red, if only so the runt would know he had to fend for himself for the time being. The very idea of speaking to anyone—the idea of crawling out from under the bed to get his phone—had his soul clenching further. No one could see him like this. No one could _know_.

He pushed himself further under the bed, tucking himself against the back wall. It was the only place he felt remotely safe. Everything burned, and time began to blur. He was only aware of its passage because of the light beginning to creep into his bedroom from under the curtains. Otherwise, he focused, moment to moment, on the heat flooding his soul and the mana causing his nodes to ache and pulse with every beat of his soul. 

Then his phone began to ring. He’d missed his daily run with Twist, so he was probably checking in on him. He should answer. Let him know he was okay, but the idea caused a low growl to vibrate his sternum. _No_.

The phone kept ringing. 

He ignored it, hands clenched tight around the pillow he’d pulled down with him. Eventually Twist gave up, but he was a Papyrus and an older brother—Edge should have known he’d meddle further. 

Someone knocked on his door. “hey?” His brother’s sleep-raspy voice came from behind the door. “bro? ya in there? twist said ya weren’t answerin’ yer phone.” 

Edge didn’t want his brother around any more than he wanted Twist around. He didn’t trust his voice, though, and he did not want Red hearing whatever sound might come out of his mouth if he tried to speak. So when his doorknob began to turn, Edge thrust out his control hand and twisted it, summoning a bone barricade. Red yelped, but Edge knew he was fine—there was no malicious Intent in the constructs, only the demand for privacy. 

“fuckin’ hell, boss! fine! ya wanna be left alone so fuckin’ bad....” He grumbled to himself as he walked away, no doubt annoyed at being woken by a panicked Papyrus only to be all but told to fuck off by another Papyrus.

Alone again, Edge curled in on himself and settled in to wait out the heat coiled in his soul.

-

“Hey, runt! Where’s your brother?” Felldyne—or ‘Hook’ as they called her on the Surface—crossed her arms and looked down at Red. “He’s late.” There was a threat in her eye, and something like glee; she would be more than happy to mercilessly tease her second-in-command if he’d made the mistake of sleeping in.

Red huffed and popped his feet up on the table. Papyrus had somehow managed to talk him into helping at the embassy today. (Likely because it consisted of sitting at a table outside the embassy and passing out flyers to disinterested humans. Next to Papyrus. Just the two of them. Even if the creampuff was currently shouting enthusiastically at a human a few feet away.) “why doncha go ask ‘im yerself, fish-bitch?” Let _her_ get a bone construct through the other eye. He didn’t give a—

“CHERRY!” He colored as Hook’s grin grew sharper. “DON’T BE RUDE!” Papyrus gave Hook a flamboyant salute, then said, “GOOD DAY, CAPTAIN! I’M AFRAID EDGY-ME HAS SEQUESTERED HIMSELF IN HIS ROOM.”

“yeah. an’ he’s bein’ a real dick about it—“

“CHERRY!”

“he threw a bunch ‘a bones at me!”

Hook snorted. “Not hard enough.”

Hands on his hips, Papyrus regarded them both, frowning. “HOOK! DO NOT STOOP TO HIS LEVEL!” Before Red could decide which of them was being insulted, he added, “YOU MIGHT HURT YOUR BACK.” The pun had Red laughing into his hand, while Hook shut her eye and groaned aloud. Papyrus didn’t even waver. “I’VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT IT, ACTUALLY. IT’S UNLIKE MYSELF TO MISS WORK, AND IT’S ESPECIALLY UNLIKE EDGY-ME. PERHAPS HE’S SICK?”

“he’d be ‘ere if he was sick.”

“He’d have come in anyway.”

They glared at each other, irritated by the reminder that the other ~~cared about~~ knew Boss so well. Oblivious—or simply willing to overlook their animosity—Papyrus cocked his head and mused, “COULD HE BE IN HEAT?”

“WHAT?!” Hook gaped at him.

If Red hadn’t shared her shock, he’d have commented on her particularly carp-like demeanor. “creampuff, yer kiddin’, right?”

“WHY WOULD YOU THINK I WAS JOKING?”

“‘cause it’s—he’s—“ Red gestured uselessly. Because it was _Boss_. He made a set of broken ribs seem like a mere nuisance. Red was just having trouble imagining his brother—

His sockets widened, and he clapped his hands to his skull. “aw, shit. shit. fuck.” Papyrus sighed at his language. “yer right. fuck. no way he’d go outside like that. prob’ly wouldn’ even wanna risk talkin’—“ The bone barrier suddenly made more sense. He stood, not sure what to do with himself. “fuck—pap, he ain’t gonna let no one near him. whadda we do? we can’t jus’ let him—“ He dragged his hands down his face, remembering the very intimate nature of heat. “shit! shit—i can’t—he def’nitely don’ wan’ me ‘round!” And, frankly, he didn’t especially want to be near his brother when he was in heat either. 

Papyrus laid a hand on his shoulders and drew him in. “Cherry,” he said gently, “why don’t you stay at my house tonight? Or, um, for the week?”

“what about boss?!”

Papyrus patted him again, though his brow-bones were furrowed as well. “Well. Um? Is there anyone that he’d trust to assist him?”

“are ya kiddin’? boss?! boss don’—“

Papyrus raised a brow-bone, and Red swore, clawing at his coronal suture. “fuck! i don’ _know_!”Most of the time, he preferred to think of his brother as a statue or a machine—firm, strong, unmoved—and Boss really hadn’t done much to dissuade him from that way of thinking. But there wasn’t any place for sexuality or romantic inclination in that image.

“Well. What about you—?” He broke off, looking around. “Hook?”

She was nowhere to be seen. Probably just as uncomfortable with the idea as Red. Papyrus sighed and knelt beside him. “Cherry, heat isn’t fatal. It doesn’t cause any lasting harm. It is painful, but there are those that prefer to go it alone, rather than seek that kind of help. Perhaps your brother would prefer it this way?”

That...that actually seemed a lot like Boss. Suffering unnecessary pain because he didn’t want to ask for help—or because he couldn’t trust the source of it. Red swore softly, remembering his own heat. ~~Yet, he couldn’t deny that some part of him was relieved. Surely it was better this way. Yes, they were on the Surface now, but it was best that Boss didn’t get too comfortable, didn’t lose his Fell-verse edge. It would keep him safer in the long run.~~

“yeah,” he agreed. “yer right. boss prob’ly wouldn’ wan’ any help anyway. stubb’rn basterd c’n take care ‘a himself.” He hesitated, pulling at his collar. “he’s gonna be okay, though—right?”

“Yes. I promise. He’ll be fine.”

-

Rus hadn’t really intended to sleep in—he never really intended to do anything really; everything just seemed to happen around him—but he was nevertheless irritated to be woken by his phone’s insistent ringing. He lifted his head, checked the clock, and decided he didn’t care that it was nearly noon. He pulled the pillow over his head and waited for the ringing to stop.

It did not.

It would pause briefly when his voicemail picked up, but whoever was trying to reach him was damnably persistent. With a groan, he snatched up the phone and asked, “cripes—what is it?”

“Heya, Rus.”

He groaned again, recognizing that sharp voice. “hook? what do you want?”

“Why do you think I want something?”

He flopped backwards on the bed and covered his sockets with his free arm. “gee. i don’t know. maybe because every time you call me, it’s because you need something.”

She laughed, low and sharp. “I don’t need anything from you, sweet-piece.” Rus frowned. She’d called him that before, and she claimed it was a compliment, but it always sounded like an insult to him. “But we’ve got a mutual friend who might need some help.”

“you have friends?” She didn’t rise to the bait, letting him figure it out himself. “wait—shit, is edge in trouble?”

“Something like that. He’s home now. Why don’t you go lend him a hand?”

He stood, starting to pace. He still didn’t entirely understand why—probably in trade for all her little favors—or how, but Hook had noticed his little crush on Edge and had taken it upon herself to feed him helpful tips and tricks. To mixed success, unfortunately; while Edge had stopped regarding him as an enemy and snapping at any flirtatious comment he made, he still kept himself at arm’s length and responded to Rus with something like suspicion whenever he tried to approach him. 

“what does he need help with?”

She didn’t reply at first. Then, grudgingly, she admitted, “He’s in heat.”

Stars above, those words hit him low and hard. The image of Edge curled in a nest of blanket rose unbidden in his mind. His soul glowing a soft red, sweat beading on his bones as he pleasured himself, trying and failing to find satisfaction. Would Edge call out for him? Or would he be bolder, more demanding?

Rus couldn’t even decide which he would prefer. 

“he wants help? did he...did he ask for me?” Hook said nothing, and that’s when the desire curling in his soul curdled. “hook. he did _ask_ , right?”

“Look, he’s there, in heat. I thought maybe you’d want to offer your help. It’s up to you. No one else is gonna lend a hand, that’s for sure.”

His soul felt hollow and empty, struck again by the stark differences in their cultures. She hung up before he could think of a reply. He sat heavily on the bed, staring at his hands. 

Edge hadn’t asked for help. He certainly hadn’t singled him out specifically. 

He turned the phone over in his hands. He shouldn’t go, right? Edge was vulnerable right now. ~~And Rus wasn’t sure he could trust himself not to take advantage.~~

But it was his first heat. Would he retain enough of himself to remember to stay hydrated? Would he remember to eat? Heat itself wasn’t harmful, but a monster could lose themselves in delirium or simply forget their other needs, too consumed by desire to take care of themselves. And the pain. Untended heat was torturous. Rus didn’t doubt that Edge would simply bear it, but he shouldn’t have to. Not when another person could alleviate it with a touch—even non-sexual contact could help! 

He swallowed and put his phone away. He was going, wasn’t he?

With a sigh, he texted his brother and packed a change of clothes into a rucksack. He could only hope he—and Edge—didn’t come to regret this. 

-

The Fell brothers’ house was quiet. Eerily so. Rus looked around the living room and called, “edge?” There was no reply.

Of course not. Edge wasn’t going to make this easy on him.

Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself and walked down the hall toward the bedrooms. “edge? hey, edgelord—you around?” He froze when he saw the bones criss-crossing the door. “of course.” The ‘go away and leave me alone’ message could not have been clearer if Edge had spelled it out in red neon. He dipped a hand into his pocket and wrapped his fingers around his lighter. “well. here goes nothing.”

He knocked lightly on the door, avoiding the bone constructs. “heya, edgelord. you in there?” No response. He shifted on his feet, not sure what to do with himself. “uh. well. i just wanted to check in on you. heat’s are hard. especially the first one.”

He shut his sockets, leaning against the wall beside the door. “i thought...i could offer some help.” He froze, bones stiffening when he realized how Edge had to take that. “not! not like...not like that! i mean—we can, if that’s what you want.” He eyed the bone constructs. “but it doesn’t have to be that kind of help. you’re probably in a lot of pain right now, and yeah, yeah, i know you can take it, tough guy, but you don’t have anything to prove to me or-or anyone else. it doesn’t have to be as bad as it is right now. just...just being close to someone can help.” He swallowed, abruptly out of words. 

He brought out his lighter and it clicked to life. He ran his fingers through the flame, trying to distract himself from how awkward and ill equipped he felt. After a few passes, he closed his fist and the lighter. The bone constructs remained. “i’ll...i’m gonna grab some water bottles and put them outside your door. i know you’ve got to be thirsty. hungry too, i bet. anything in particular sound good to you? i can get whatever you need.”

He waited, hardly daring to breathe, in case Edge spoke and he missed it. 

Nothing. 

He shut his sockets and sighed. “right. i’m gonna get some water for you. don’t go anywhere, okay?” The joke felt brittle in his mouth, and his throat tightened on the last syllable.

He set three bottles of water by the door. “the water’s here if you need it.” 

Just as he was about to go back to the living room, he heard, “Don’t.” 

His soul started hammering and he turned back to the door. “don’t what?” Don’t leave? Don’t go? Please, stars, let him stay, let him _help_ —

“Don’t look.”

His soul felt like it was caught in his throat, but part of him was relieved nonetheless. “okay. i can do that. the water’s here. i’m gonna go out to the living room now. i won’t look at you.” He tapped his pinkie finger against the door. “promise.”

He backed away, announcing his movements the whole time. When he reached the couch, he raised his voice and said, “i’m just gonna sit down and read for a while. if you need anything, just say so.” He swallowed. “i won’t look.”

There was no response, and the bones stayed in place. He sat and fiddled with his phone, too keyed-up to read. There were several messages from his brother, but he left them unread. It seemed like a small eternity before he heard the bedroom door creak open. His breath caught, and he swallowed hard. He wanted to turn and look, wanted to assure Edge that everything happening was normal and natural and not something to fight against, wanted to show him that it could even be fun. Pleasant. 

But he knew that the fragile trust they’d formed would be shattered if he did. So he stayed perfectly still, never turning away from his phone, even if every ounce of awareness was focused at his back.

He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. “food!” Mentally, he cursed his awkward tongue. “i mean—if you’re hungry. i can. i can order food. or pick something up.”

Silence. But the door didn’t shut. Nervous, Rus picked at his hoodie. “ice cream is...is what i always like best when....” He took a slow breath, trying to steady himself. “but i don’t know if you’d want that.”

Again, there was no reply. Until—“No.”

The door slammed shut.

Rus wiped a hand over his skull. Stars, his bones were tense and tight. He was so afraid of saying the wrong thing, doing the wrong thing. He wanted to help, yet he feared he’d only make it worse. 

Well, one thing was certain—Edge would need food eventually. And it was likely he wouldn’t share his preferences. So Rus tried the next best thing and texted Papyrus.

-

‘Curry’ had seemed like a strange recommendation—Rus could not fathom eating anything that was both hot and spicy while his soul felt like it was literally melting—but Papyrus has insisted. So he called a Thai restaurant and teleported over to pick up his order. The house was just as eerily silent when he returned, and he hesitated in the kitchen. His inclination was to eat directly from the take-out box, but this was for Edge, not him. He dug around in their drawers for a tray and a bowl, and he plated up the curry, including another bottle of water on the tray and a glass of Thai tea. 

Tray in hand, he returned to Edge’s door. The bone constructs remained in place, a silent ward. He swallowed and, unable to knock, raised his voice.  “heya, edgelord. got some food here for you. thai curry and rice.”

No reply.

He looked down at the tray. “i’ve got thai tea too. maybe that’s too sweet for you, but i always want something sweet when my heat hits, so maybe you might enjoy it too?” 

Still no reply. 

He shifted from foot to foot. He could just teleport into Edge’s room. A locked door was hardly a barrier to someone with his abilities. The red glow of the bones warned him against that idea, though; Edge clearly didn’t want to be disturbed, no matter how much pain he was in. No matter that Rus could help to ease it. 

“i guess. i’ll just leave it here, then? i won’t look. if you come out, i mean. i won’t look at you.”

He set the tray down, but just as he started to leave,  he heard movement behind the door. The door creaked in its frame, and he imagined Edge leaning against it, his forehead pressed to the cool wood. ~~Was he naked now? Was his soul dripping with need? Would he finally ask for help?~~

“edge?” His voice was a soft plea. _let me help!_

“Why?” Edge’s voice, in contrast, was low and gruff, more so than usual. Was there a note of desperation in it? Any hint of need? If so, Rus couldn’t detect it.

“why help you?” No reply. Apparently, Edge thought the answer was obvious enough. Or maybe even his tight control was slipping, and the monosyllabic response was all he could manage. “because...” So many answers to that question, and none of them right. Insisting he was doing it out of the kindness of his heart would earn only disbelief. Any proclamation of affection would be derided and scorned. He swallowed hard, one hand planted on the door, where he imagined Edge’s chest might be. “...because not even grumpy edgelords deserve to be alone when they’re hurting.”

Somehow, Edge always seemed more receptive to insults than he was to displays of kindness. As if the former was to be expected, and the latter was to be regarded with suspicion. Sprinkling in some harsh words seemed like the easiest way to get him to accept that Rus’ motives were—mostly—pure.

Edge made a low sound, like feline’s quiet _chuff_. After a moment, he said, “Leave the food.” The low rumble of his voice made Rus’ legs go weak at the knee. He could hear the strain in it, though. More so when he added, “Don’t look.”

“i won’t.”

Again, he backed toward the living room, announcing his progress. When he was seated on the couch, he sat still and stiff, waiting to hear the creak of the door. It opened, and Rus held himself very still. _Don’t look._

He heard the clatter of dish-ware. Then the door shut quietly and the red bone constructs were back in place. Slowly, Rus released the breath he’d been holding.

It was going to be a long week.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rus has no idea what he got himself into, and even Edge’s control has limits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still no smut, but it’s definitely more graphic now. 
> 
> **Content warning:** Nesting behavior, feral behavior, scent-kink, genital mention, bodily fluid, arousal, mutual pining, sex work mentioned (as in “using sex to pay for basic survival needs”), and relationship angst.
> 
> I changed the “Enemies to Lovers” tag to “Idiots to Lovers”, even though they’ll likely remain idiots.

It was getting late now. The sunlight coming in through the Western window was a deep gold, and it threw long shadows across the floor. The kitchen window showed the bruised purple of the Eastern horizon and the first brave star hanging low in the sky. Rus watched the shadows stretch across the floor, sitting idly on the couch in the living room.

Was he helping or making everything worse? It was so hard to tell, and Edge wasn’t providing any feedback. Rus had left more water by his door, as well as some healthy snacks—stars knew Edge wouldn’t take unhealthy snacks from him—but he hadn’t emerged since lunch. Rus had tried to watch a movie, but anything that disturbed the silence of the house felt too invasive. He tried reading, but his mind had drifted from the page as soon as he tried. 

Now, with night approaching, he felt restless and uneasy. He probably shouldn’t sleep here overnight—right? By now, it was obvious that Edge didn’t want his help physically, and Rus could leave water and food for him throughout the week without camping in the Fell brothers’ living room. 

He glanced at the hallway, wishing Edge would open the door for him. Rus only had the best intentions, really. To help Edge navigate his heat. To make him more comfortable, even if Edge didn’t want more from him. 

He sighed and leaned back against the couch, covering his face with one hand. He took a breath and made a decision. 

He wasn’t staying. Edge wasn’t coming out, and Rus’ presence might actually be making things worse anyway. The glow of the red bone constructs certainly made it seem so. Still, there were a few things Rus could do to make Edge more comfortable before he left. 

Standing, he walked toward the door and knocked lightly. “edge?” No reply, as usual. “i’m gonna leave for the night. unless you want me to stay.” He waited, but Edge said nothing. “okay. uh, before i go, i thought you might want to take a bath? i know that heat can get a bit...messy. and cool water can help a bit. would you like me to run the water for you?” 

Edge didn’t say anything immediately, and Rus found his mouth running away with him. “i won’t look. i’m not-not offering to help you bathe or anything. but that way someone’s here if you slip or if...if you get dizzy. you can yell for me. and i’ll check on you.”

He swallowed, trying to silence his rambling, but Edge’s silence felt like a judgment. “or, um, don’t. it’s up to you. my bones always start to feel grimy after the first few hours, but—“

“Yes.” Edge’s voice was definitely strained now, and Rus had to assume he wouldn’t say much more than that. 

“you want me to run it for you?”

“Yes.” It was almost sibilant. Rus shut his sockets and leaned against the doorframe, imaging Edge curled in on himself, wracked with pain. His soul would shine like an overheated bulb in his ribcage. His nodes would be hot and swollen with mana. Rus swallowed. 

“are you sure you don’t want help?” There was a note of despair in his voice. He hated the image in his head. Hated the idea of proud, strong Edge brought so low. “i’m willing. if...if you are.”

He waited, but Edge said nothing. His silence was as strong a refusal as anything he could have said. 

“alright. i’ll, uh, i’ll run the bath. then i’ll leave you alone for the night. hopefully you can get some rest.” He said the last, knowing it was a lie. Edge would get no rest, no relief. Not without help. He stepped away from the door and went to run the bath. It would be safer than a shower, considering the occasional boughts of dizziness that could accompany heat. He tested the water, adjusting the temperature until it would be pleasantly tepid for a monster in heat. 

Then he sat on the couch to wait. When the bath was ready, he told Edge and—again—promised not to look at him. He retreated to the living room and listened.

The faint hum of active magic disappeared as the bone constructs fell away. The door opened, and Rus held his breath. He could feel Edge staring at the back of his skull, and it set his soul hammering. He swallowed back a lewd remark, knowing now was not the time to joke about washing each others’ backs. 

Edge seemed to stare at him for a long time. Just as Rus began to get restless, though, Edge turned away. The bathroom door opened and shut in the same breath, and Rus exhaled hard. 

Normally, helping a monster through their heat was _fun_. “heh. trust the edgelord to make it harder than it has to be.” The innuendo made him smile, and he ran a hand over his skull, shaking out the tension. Okay. Phase one in project ‘make the grumpy edgelord as comfortable as possible even though he refuses all conventional help’ was complete. On to phase two.

Being the cleanliness nut that he was, Edge had to hate the empty water bottles and dirty dishes stacked in his room, even if he was too out of it to do anything about it himself. So Rus was going to take care of it for him. “you better appreciate this, edge.” And tell no one. He rather preferred living down to everyone’s expectations; he didn’t need anyone giving his little bro extra ammunition against him when it came time to do the dishes. He grabbed a trash bag from the kitchen and stepped into Edge’s bedroom. 

He stopped, frowning.

This...wasn’t right. Sure, Edge ordinarily kept his space pristine, and there was clearly trash stuffed under the bed, the bedclothes themselves rumpled. That was to be expected, though; he was in heat—even Edge couldn’t maintain his normal fastidiousness. That wasn’t what had his cervical vertebrae prickling with unease.

The bedclothes should have been pulled into a nest, padded with pillows and soft clothing. But it was just...rumpled. And there were no pillows in sight. Rus had never seen a monster that didn’t nest during heat. This wasn’t right, his instincts screamed. There was something _wrong._

He touched the mattress and found it cold, free of the more obvious signs of heat. Edge obviously hadn’t been resting on the bed. So, where had he been all day?

He inhaled sharply when the answer struck him. _no._

Disbelieving, he bent down and peered under the bed. There were empty water bottles and Edge’s lunch dishes shoved to the sides, but what held his attention was the single pillow pressed against the back wall. It was sticky with spent mana, as was the floor around it. 

Rus sat back on his heels, rocked by the realization. Edge had spent the day curled up under the bed. On the _floor._ Stars above.... He pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, shaking his head. This was—this was—! He didn’t even know! He’d never heard of a monster’s instincts getting so crossed they didn’t nest during heat!

He swallowed and tried to figure out what to do. Edge could not spend the week on the floor. The very idea had Rus ready to barge into the bathroom and yell at him for being an idiot—before showing him that _this didn’t have to be so hard!_ He pushed the urge away, though, aware that this wasn’t Edge’s fault. He clearly wasn’t in his right mind—fussy, dignified Edge definitely didn’t crawl under his bed because it seemed like a fun way to spend the day—and while it was tempting to use that as an excuse to force him to accept Rus’ help, Rus wasn’t that kind of monster.

Besides, he didn’t want Edge to hate him at the end of the week.

Well, he had no idea why Edge’s nesting behavior was so outside the norm, but looking around the room, he couldn’t help but notice there really wasn’t anything available to make a comfortable nest in the first place. Edge apparently only had _a_ pillow and _a_ blanket, and stars knew his clothing wasn’t at all suitable as nesting material. Sighing, Rus ran a hand over the top of his skull. Well, he could help with that, at least. He teleported home, to his own room—no need to disturb Blue—and began gathering everything Edge could ever want to make a proper nest. 

Rus was hardly a seamster, but he knew his way around a needle and thread. Underground, he’d often collected soft flannels and other materials from the dump and the second-hand shops to make rag quilts. They weren’t always beautiful, but they were soft and warm—perfect for the cold winters in Snowdin. Or for making a good, cozy nest to spend your heat in. He kept a few in his room, stuffed haphazardly into a trunk at the foot of his bed. He piled those on the mattress, then grabbed two pillows and even a few of his old hoodies, so worn the elbows were threadbare and the cuffs were full of holes. Perfect for lining a nest, even if they were too worn to wear without embarrassing his brother. 

Satisfied with his collection, he returned to Edge’s room, dropping everything on the bed. Rus paused, eyeing the mountain of plush, cozy materials. Was it enough to just leave it here? Would Edge get it? Why was he under the bed in the first place? Did he even know how to make a nest? Rus rubbed his forehead, sighing. Would he have jumped to help so quickly if he’d have known it would be so much thankless work?

~~ If he’d known Edge had been curled up under the bed rather than in a nice soft nest, he’d have come over sooner and more well prepared. ~~

Since he wasn’t sure why Edge’s instincts were so off, he decided to guide him a little. He shook out the blankets and bunched them up, shoving the pillows and hoodies into any gaps. It wasn’t a proper nest—his instincts weren’t active right now, so his attempts felt artificial at best—but it might at least give Edge the right idea.

Not at all confident that he’d done anything useful or helpful, but at a loss as to what else he could do, he finished stuffing empty water bottles into the bag and grabbed Edge’s lunch tray. He shut the door behind him, then paused outside the bathroom. Knocking softly, he asked, “you okay in there?“ There was, predictably, no reply. “edge, if you don’t say anything, i’m going to assume you drowned—“

“I’m fine.”

Rus raised a brow-bone; by his estimation, Edge was anything but fine, not that he could say so aloud. “alright. i grabbed your lunch dishes, and uh, i left a few things on the bed. to make you more comfortable.” 

Behind the door, water splashed. “What did you do?!” For a moment, Rus’ expression eased into a smile at the normalcy of Edge’s reaction and tone. He almost sounded like himself.

“nothing! just left you some blankets and pillows, that’s all. what do you live in, a military barracks? you’re allowed to have something more comfortable, edgelord. especially right now.”

Edge’s silence signaled the end of the small pocket of normalcy. Rus swallowed, no longer teasing. “do you want anything for dinner? i can leave it outside your door.”

No reply. He sighed. “alright, i’ll ask again before i go. you’re safe to come out, by the way—i won’t look.”

He returned to the kitchen and, keeping his word, turned his back to the door so he couldn’t see Edge if he emerged. He piled the dishes in the sink; he’d take care of them later, when they’d had the chance to pile up. Still disturbed by Edge’s behavior, he texted Undyne—his Undyne—to inquire why a monster might be unable or unwilling to nest during heat. 

Was he sick? Was something wrong? ~~Was it Rus’ fault? Was he making it worse?~~

Hopefully, ‘Dyne might have an idea. As it was, Rus flopped down on the couch, determined to wait a while and see if Edge might actually ask for food or if Rus would have to play more guessing games. He laid down on the couch and shut his sockets—just for a minute—and listened to the bathroom door open and shut, and to the renewed sound of red bone constructs humming. 

He really hadn’t intended to fall asleep, but before he realized how tired he really was, he was already drifting off.

-

Edge paused just inside his bedroom, his soul a confused mix of emotions when he saw the blankets and pillows Rus had left for him.

He swallowed, his soul clenching hard. He leaned against the door, trying to breathe through the cramp. His magic gathered between his thighs, heavy and amorphous and _sensitive._ The nodes along his mana lines were hot and swollen, even if the bath had helped a little. Worst of all was the constant urge, like an itch he knew he shouldn’t scratch, to burst into the other room and fuck Rus into the ground. 

Rus’ little gestures were not making it easier to control himself either.

Every time Rus knocked hesitantly on his door and spoke all gentle and _concerned,_ Edge wanted nothing more than to drag him into the room and fuck him stupid. The little gifts of food and water— ~~it was absurd to think of them as ‘gifts’; he knew that, he knew that, but he couldn’t convince his traitorous soul~~ —roused something inside him. Something possessive and needy all at once. Something that read the little displays of kindness as courtship and wanted to respond to them wholly inappropriately.

Rus was just being nice. He was Tale-verse. It’s what they did. Even his offers to help made it pretty clear he thought it was something he was obliged to do. A service one would offer to ~~an ally~~ a “friend” in need. It meant nothing more than that.

But Edge’s soul was too riled and, in some ways, too fragile for that kind of treatment. Even the little acts of kindness and flirtation Rus offered in their everyday interactions were too much for him, knowing as he did that they didn’t hold the same weight for Rus as they did for him. Rus was just being friendly. He likely had no idea what it did to Edge.

And he definitely didn’t know what this latest bit of kindness was doing to him either.

The blankets and pillows were mussed and disarrayed, and Edge could only swallow, envisioning Rus spread out on the mattress or safely swaddled in the bedding. A low sound escaped him, neither purr nor growl but something in between. He shook his head and pushed the idea away. _No_.

He ran a hand over the soft surface, pushing the pillows into a better place. Some part of him still wanted nothing more than to crawl under the bed and wait for his soul to stop reaching for some ~~one~~ thing that just wasn’t there, but the nest of quilts and blankets wasn’t quite right. He had to _fix_ _it_. ~~If he ever wanted Rus to join him here, everything had to be perfect and soft and comfortable.~~ He huffed again, shaking his head, but the fog in his skull lingered stubbornly. With a growl, he crawled onto the mattress and began rearranging the haphazard bedding.

Just as he was getting it to a satisfactory state, another cramp brought him low. He caught himself on his forearms and bowed his head. He inhaled sharply as his soul seized, claws bunching in the quilts. He settled into the blankets, breathing through the pain. As he did, he caught the scent of something that stirred his magic and caused the nodes at his joints to ache and pulse. He moaned and the magic between his thighs threatened to coalesce into a cock or a pussy or some combination of the two. Beads of raw magic condensed on his pubic symphysis and dripped down his thighs. He squeezed his legs together, pressing a hand to his mouth to silence the whimper that threatened to break free.

The scent surrounded him, inescapable, and his desperation ratcheted higher. His hips stuttered, searching for stimulation. Stars above, what _was_ that? He hated what it was doing to him, hated the tide of need that threatened to sweep him away, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull back. He inhaled long and deep, pressing into the quilts and pillows. His lower jaw loosened and he sucked air in through his teeth. He could nearly _taste_ it. Honey and musk and salt and mana that wasn’t his own.

A growl rattled his bones, and he grabbed at the strongest source of the scent, burying his face in the fabric. Magic pooled in his mouth, and heat speared through him. It felt like a hot knife was buried hilt-deep in his soul. His claws clenched around the fabric, tearing it, and his vision went white. The heat and the pain crested, and he shoved his hand into his mouth to keep from screaming. 

Finally, finally, the pain faded, but the heat remained. He was still panting, and small shudders wracked his bones. He couldn’t tear himself from the source of the scent, though. He needed it like he needed to breathe, but it just wasn’t enough. He needed _more._

Shakily sitting back on his heels, he eyed the torn orange hoodie in his hands, knowing that the trur source of the scent was close. 

He swallowed, trying to remember why he shouldn’t snatch Rus from the other room and fuck him into the blankets. He’d brought him food and water, and he’d brought soft, warm things to line ~~his~~ _their_ nest. He’d offered, hadn’t he? Offered to make the pain stop, or at least make it bearable. He didn’t have to do any of those things, did he? He didn’t even have to come. If anything, Edge owed him for his “kindness”, didn’t he? And this kind of exchange was familiar enough. Sex for food? For a safe place to sleep? With a monster he actually wanted? Between the two of them, Edge seemed to be getting the better end of the deal.

~~ And if he thought of it that way, as a transaction and nothing more, then it would be easier when his heat was past and they returned to their previous distant tolerance. Rus was not his. Rus would never be his. He could keep him for a week, though, and maybe that would be enough. It would have to be. He didn’t dare to hope for more. ~~

Resolute, now, he stood on trembling legs, hoodie hanging from his hand. With only a moment of hesitation, he shoved his hands into the threadbare arms, simultaneously swathing himself in the warm, comforting scent and concealing his scarred and callused soul. Then he dismissed the bones barring the way and stumbled to the door. He clutched the doorframe, steeling himself. He was not going to fumble his way to Rus like he just learned to walk yesterday. Heat or no, he wasn’t willing to give up his dignity.

He took a deep, steadying breath, and pushed open the door. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rus is still trying. Edge isn’t handling this very well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content warning:** Dubcon, mid-coitus panic attacks, Edge’s control issues(tm), combative sex, penetrative sex, ecto-genitalia, bodily fluids, unresolved feelings, name-calling, dirty talk.

Rus was roused by the sound of a door slamming. He sat upright immediately, soul hammering. “what—!?”

He turned his head and saw Edge leaning against his bedroom door, head down and breathing rough. 

A thousand thoughts raced through his mind. First, he thought to run to help him, since he’d obviously been struck by a bout of dizziness or a soul cramp. Then he was paralyzed by the reminder that Edge didn’t even want to be looked at right now.

Lastly, he noticed the worn out orange hoodie he was wearing—the _only_ bit of clothing he was wearing—and the way the nodes at his joints glowed an angry red. Rus swallowed back the magic that had gathered in his mouth, again reminding himself that Edge _didn’t want him._

He covered his sockets and looked away. “edgelord? you okay? you need—“ _me?_ “—anything?” Stars, his magic was really starting to misbehave; he shifted in his seat, resettling. 

“You.”

Rus’ soul hammered and mana rushed through his skull, deafening him. He swallowed. “sorry, but, um, can you repeat—?”

“Swapshit, you’ve been offering your ‘help’ all fucking day. If you don’t get your ass over here and onto the bed, then I’m gonna carry you.”

Soul still hammering, still disbelieving, Rus’ mouth ran away with him while his mind caught up to what Edge had actually said. “carry me, huh?” He lowered his hand and deliberately surveyed Edge, sweeping his eyelights over his hunched form. He raised a brow-bone, even as Edge’s expression darkened. “how are you gonna manage that when you can barely carry yourself?”

He regretted the question almost instantly. Edge shoved himself away from the wall, glowering. Rus scrambled upright, realizing Edge fully intended to carry out his threat, despite his current state. “wait, wait! i’ll—!”

“Too late.”

Edge wrapped one arm around his pelvis and hefted him over one shoulder. Heat poured off of him, searing Rus wherever they touched. Rus blinked, stunned. A shudder ran through Edge’s body, and for a moment, Rus was afraid they were both going to go tumbling to the floor. Edge’s legs were steady, though, and his claws were tight on Rus’ spine. He turned his head and buried his face in Rus’ hip, scenting him. Rus’ cervical vertebrae prickled. “...edge?”

Edge’s eyelights glowed like coals as he pulled back to glare at him. “You’ve got no right to smell that good.” A low growl undercut his words, and Rus’ sockets went wide. A soft flush colored his cheekbones. 

“yeah, well—“ He had no comeback for that. He swallowed and his blush deepened. 

Edge readjusted his grip and ducked back into the bedroom. “Was this your plan, then?”

Rus blinked, craning his neck so he could see where they were going. He was pleased to see that Edge had obviously adjusted the makeshift nest, but—“plan? yeah, edgelord, i totally planned to be carried off like a helpless maiden in a fairytale.”

They reached the bed, and Edge ungently tossed him into the nest. Rus swore, trying to untangle himself, only to sit up and find himself socket to socket with Edge. His bones were flushed as well, and sweat beaded on his skull, his cervical vertebrae. More magic pooled in Rus’ mouth. “This,” Edge said, gesturing to the nest. “Was this how you decided you’d convince me to accept your ‘help’?”

Rus shook his head, clearing away his desire, but Edge only pressed closer. His hands gripped Rus’ upper thighs, keeping them spread as he crawled in between. “edge? i don’t—?”

“It smells like you. Everything smells like _you_.”

Rus was first confused, but then the horror began to creep in. “oh. oh, stars. oh, shit. fuck. edge, i didn’t mean—“

“You’ve made your intentions obvious from the start.” 

“no! not like—“ Stars above, not like this. He didn’t want Edge like this. Desperate, yes, but not angry and resentful. 

He should have known—Edge was too proud to be anything but resentful of his help.

It felt like the floor had dropped out from under him. “i’m sorry. i didn’t think.... i didn’t mean to....”

Edge paused, his features inscrutable as he looked down at Rus. “You offered your help—do you regret that now too?”

“no! i-i want to help. but i didn’t want to make it worse.”

Edge snorted. “Too late for—“

Just then, his eyelights shrank to pinpricks and he bowed forward, his whole body seizing in pain. His hands first tightened around Rus’ thighs, but just as it was starting to hurt, he jerked his hands away and bunched them in the bedclothes. His breathing hissed through his teeth, and the nodes at his joints flared bright, so swollen with magic Rus wondered how he had managed to move so fluidly.

Sitting upright, Rus reached for him. “let me—“

Coal-bright, his eyelights locked on Rus. Edge hissed. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

For a moment, impatience and irritation overcame pity. “you literally carried me in here so that i could help! did you change your mind in the last two seconds!?”

Edge did not reply. He was hunched over, head bowed and breathing harsh. Rus swallowed and looked away, reminding himself that one of them needed to be reasonable. Edge wasn’t in any position to be wholly rational right now, so that left Rus. “listen,” he tried again, softening his tone. “you’re in rough shape, and i know you’ve got to be hurting. but it doesn’t have to be that way. i can help, but you have to accept it. i’m not going to force it on you.”

Edge looked up at him, his eyelights unfocused. Jaw clenched, he asked, “What do you get out of it?”

Rus froze. The Fell monsters always had a habit of saying things that knocked him on his ass. It hadn’t occurred to him that Edge would refuse because he was afraid Rus might demand something in return. He lifted his hand again, then lowered it, remembering he didn’t have permission to touch. “edge....”

A final shudder ran through him, then the cramp must have eased—Edge exhaled in relief and sat up again. His eyelights were just as bright; his nodes just as angry and swollen. “Or is your ‘help’ reward enough?”

It would have been easier if he’d asked it disdainfully. It was worse, somehow, that he asked the same way he might ask the price of apples at the supermarket. Rus thought he might be sick.

Nevertheless, Edge still needed him. Would it be better to try to convince him that there was no price, that he just wanted to help? In this state, already suspicious and upset, would Edge even believe him? 

At his uncertainty, Edge growled, “You won’t have this to hang over my head. If you need something more, then tell me now.”

Rus swallowed and said the first thing he could think of. “my heat. when...when my heat hits, return the favor. you can do for me the same that i do for you.” And if Rus really fucked it up, then Edge could pay him back in full.

Something in Edge’s expression shifted, there and gone before Rus could identify it. His features settled into a cool mask, but Rus could see the strain in his jaw and around his sockets. A drop of sweat trickled down his brow, and his hands clenched. Another cramp? “edge? can i...?” He raised his hand like an offering. 

Finally, _finally_ , Edge’s head bowed forward and he said, “Yes,” like a sigh. 

Rus ignored the note of defeat in his voice and the ache in his own soul. However Edge viewed this, whatever Fell-verse bullshit had him so wound up he was willing to suffer rather than accept an offer of aid, Rus was going to make damn sure that this was good for him. Or, at least, as good as it could be, all things considered.

He scooted forward, hand still raised, as if he were approaching an injured animal. “i’m gonna touch the back of your neck, okay?” Edge visibly braced himself, but Rus pressed close, their bodies not quite touching. “tell me if...if i hurt you.”

“Just get on with it!”

Shaking his head, a small smile tugged at Rus’ mouth. “sure thing, edgelord.” He gently cupped the back of Edge’s neck, one thumb rubbing along the side of his vertebrae. He had no particular skill with projecting, but he knew a skeleton’s erogenous zones very well. 

“Would you stop fucking around and—“

He pressed his distal phalange between Edge’s vertebrae, into the cartilage. And into the mana node that ran the length of his neck. 

Edge gasped, falling forward onto his forearms. He swore, but his back arched, pressing into Rus’ hand as he thumbed the vertebrae. “feels good?” Edge said nothing, so Rus raised a brow-bone. He released his hand, leaving Edge panting. “if you don’t tell me, i’ll assume, i’m hurting you—“

Edge’s head dipped and his fingers flexed. He muttered something into the blankets.

“what was that?”

Sitting up, Edge pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips. “I said ‘You’re an asshole!’” 

“so it felt good—“

Growling with frustration, Edge grabbed his hand and pressed it to the back of his neck once more. “Yes, you jackass! Would you just—?”

Smile playing at the corner of his mouth, Rus teased his knuckles over the back of Edge’s neck. “would i what?” Edge glared at him fiercely, but Rus couldn’t help but find it cute rather than intimidating. “tell me what you want, edgelord. you gotta ask if you want help~.”

“You mother—“ Edge cut himself off with a growl, then leaned forward until their nasal ridges were barely an inch apart. “I want your hands on me, you intolerable asshat. I want you to keep doing whatever the _fuck_ you were doing with your hands and most importantly—“ He grabbed at Rus’ crotch, earning a squeak when he gripped the bone through the cloth. “—I want you to summon something for me.”

Eyelights blown and magic obediently rushing to his pelvic cavity, Rus couldn’t resist. He gripped the back of Edge’s skull and brought him the rest of the way down for a kiss. A surprised jolt rocked Edge’s body, and for a moment, Rus feared he would pull away. He ran a coaxing tongue over Edge’s jaw and teeth, pulling back just far enough to murmur, “you’re so fucking hot right now.”

It was enough. Edge’s teeth parted and Rus’ tongue slipped inside, playfully stirring up the red magic gathering in Edge’s lower jaw. He cupped Edge’s face between his hands, and for a moment, everything else fell away. He was completely focused on the sharp cheekbones beneath his fingers and the crisp jawline under his hand and the electricity of magic on magic. His hand skated over Edge’s cheek, brushing his temple and trailing over his skull before landing solidly on the back of his neck.

He squeezed and Edge moaned. It sounded sweeter than any honey he’d ever tasted. 

“fuck you’re perfect. i’ve gotcha now, edgelord. gonna take care of you. real good. promise. i promise.” 

He squeezed that node again, pressing his phalanges into the spaces between his vertebrae. He pulled back from the kiss to instead brush his teeth over Edge’s jaw and neck, drinking in the little sounds he couldn’t quite silence. “yeah, babe, that’s right. let me hear you. let me know just how good that feels. fuck you’re perfect.” His free hand pressed Edge’s hips down and into his, grinding them together. “feel that? my magic’s getting hot for you. ready for you. whaddaya want, edgelord? wanna fuck me? or do you want me to fuck you?” Just the thought of sinking into Edge’s tight, wet heat—warm and welcoming and fluttering with need—had Rus’ own nodes growing hot with desire, but this was for Edge. He could call the shots this time around. ~~Rus didn’t allow himself to think about the future, about Edge seeing him through his heat. He certainly didn’t let himself hope for anything more than this.~~

Edge shook his head, jaw clenched. 

Laying back against the bedding, Rus massaged his cervical vertebrae, stimulating the sensitive node. Through half-lidded sockets, he watched Edge arch the back of his neck, pressing into his hand. His hands clutched at the front of Rus’ hoodie. A red stain had appeared on his chest, spreading across the worn material. Rus swallowed thickly, knowing Edge’s soul was caged behind his ribs. Needy and dripping. 

Aware that Edge probably wouldn’t allow him to touch it, no matter how desperate he was, Rus redirected his gaze, taking in Edge’s features. His sockets were squeezed shut and his jaw was shut tight, holding back any sound he might make. He was still too tense for Rus’ taste. Too reserved. H e could take care of that. Shifting upright, he started to guide Edge onto the bed, but of course, Edge fought him. His legs tightened around Rus’ hips, and he caught the front of Rus’ hoodie in his hand. “What are you doing?”

Smiling, Rus nosed along his jaw, planting soft kisses as he went. “just trying to get you to loosen up. you’re your own worst enemy, you know that?”

“You haven’t met my enemies.” His voice was breathy despite his words, and he froze as Rus kissed along his cervical vertebrae, his kisses interspersed with light nips. 

“you’re so tense.” Edge’s hands had shifted to grip his shoulders, fingers flexing as if he couldn’t decide whether to push him away or pull him closer. Rus smiled to himself, then drew his tongue over Edge’s neck and sucked at the swollen node. 

Edge choked on a cry, gritting his jaw. The red stain on his chest broadened and darkened, though, and he didn’t fight when Rus laid him on the bed. He was panting, and his pelvis—wonderfully bare—was hot to the touch. Spent mana condensed on the bones as he struggled not to manifest anything. Rus leaned down, supporting himself on his elbows as he leaned in for another kiss. Edge opened to receive him, trying to follow as Rus pulled back after a few soft licks. Teasing, Rus asked, “that’s better, right?” 

Before Edge could reply, Rus hooked a finger through his pubic symphysis, earning a gasp. Edge covered his mouth and squeezed his sockets shut, but Rus pushed his hand away for another kiss. He fingered the hot, slick bone as he did, coaxing rough gasps and quickly silenced moans from him. “you never told me what you wanted, edgelord. my pussy? or my cock?” He thrust his fingers into Edge’s pelvic inlet on the last word, his mimicry obvious. “well, edgelord? what do you want?”

-

Edge could barely focus on Rus’ words. If he thought he’d been hot before, his whole body now felt like it was burning. It was _too much._ He was certain to fall apart if Rus kept going, but he thought he might die if he stopped. Every touch sent a pulse of need straight to his soul, to the magic gathered in his mouth and his pelvic cavity. After hurting for so long, the pleasure was nearly unbearable. He couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. He could only flail helplessly between panic and need. 

He needed Rus to _stop_ , to slow down, but he couldn’t find the words to ask for that. Even if he could, the need for more was just as great.

“well, edgelord? what do you want?”

_ Everything and nothing and for him to take his hands off him to never stop touching him to fuck him to let him go back under the bed in the safe and the dark and— _

His body decided for him. 

His magic opened around Rus’ fingers, and Edge’ breath hitched as his pussy snapped into place. In some ways, it was a relief—raw magic, unshaped and unformed was far more sensitive—but knowing his body was acting on instinct and in ways he hadn’t consciously permitted was a very special kind of torture. 

“oh. oh fuck, oh _shit._ edge—“ Rus was kissing him again. It was overwhelming. His breath on Edge’s jaw. The taste of his magic. The heat of his body. Edge clutched at him, trying to catch his mouth when he pulled away. Stars above, it was like being drugged ~~and Edge had never enjoyed that feeling, never enjoyed the sudden lethargy or artificial calm.~~ “you’re so fucking perfect.”

The praise brought more heat to his features, and he shook his head. He felt so far from perfect right now. He felt dirty and gross and desperate. It didn’t matter that Rus didn’t seem to mind; Edge just wanted to feel like himself again. Not this writhing, despicable thing the heat had made him.

“heh. modesty? from you? that’s not gonna fly. not with me. ‘specially not right now.” He pushed Edge’s thighs open and looked down at him as if he wanted to savor the sight in front of him. “stars, you’re beautiful.” For a moment, his features were tender rather than hungry. Then he shook his head, as if clearing his thoughts. His slick fingers glided over Edge’s vulva. Edge threw his head back, legs flexing as he stuffed his fist in his mouth. 

Rus’ fingers teased along the crease of his sex, barely touching his clit. The magic rushed away from Edge’s skull, making him feel lightheaded. Anxiety coiled in his lower abdomen, but heat flooded his mana lines. Despite the fist in his mouth, little sounds escaped him whenever Rus thumbed his clit. Each touch sent a jolt through him, threatening to turn his limbs to rubber.

“c’mon, edgelord, let me hear you.” He tugged at Edge’s wrist, but Edge shook his head, biting down until it hurt. With a soft huff, Rus instead dipped his head down to nibble at Edge’s cervical vertebrae. “so stubborn. i love the sounds you make.” His thumb slid beside Edge’s clit, teasing it. Edge shook his head, but Rus nuzzled the underside of his jaw. “no? not gonna moan for me?” His other hand massaged Edge’s carpals, trying to ease his fist out of his mouth. “you got nothing to be ashamed of. i know the heat’s riding you hard—“ He braced for the pun but it never came. “—but i’ve got you. i’m gonna take care of you. you got that?”

Edge was prepared for more teasing, but Rus apparently expected an answer. One hand pulled away from Edge’s pussy, though the other continued to massage his carpals. He rested his body weight on his knees and elbow, but Edge could still feel the press of his chest and hips, could feel his chest rise and fall, feel his breath on his jaw. “edge? i’ll take care of you. you understand?” No teasing. No dirty talk. Just a promise.

Something inside of him unclenched and he wrapped his arms around Rus’ chest, burrowing close. He tucked his face into Rus’ neck, breathing in his scent. “Yes.” His voice was choked and hoarse. 

“good. that’s good. are you doing okay?”

He hesitated. There was only one honest answer, but he was afraid Rus would stop if he gave it and that would be worse. “Yes,” he lied, lifting his hips like a plea. 

Chuckling, Rus kissed the side of his head. “okay. we’ll keep going then. let me know if i do anything wrong, okay? i only want to help.”

Edge nodded as if he understood, but his skull was scrambled and nothing made sense. He only understood that he needed Rus to keep doing what he was doing, even if some part of him was screaming in protest. 

Rus’ fingers slid back to his pussy, spreading his lips. He pressed two fingers to his entrance, but despite his heat, his body was still too tense to accept them. Petting along his thigh as if to soothe him, Rus asked, “can i taste you?”

The idea—the image—made Edge inhale sharply. He wanted that but he also wanted to keep clinging to the body atop him. Rus was a comforting weight above him. ~~He didn’t like being out in the open, didn’t like feeling exposed or _seen_~~. He tightened his grip, and Rus chuckled softly. “alright, we’ll hold off. i hope you’ll let me, though.” His fingers returned to Edge’s pussy, and his clit burned when Rus’ thumb rubbed a small circle into the hood. His grip tightened and he gasped aloud, unable to tell if it was pleasure or pain he felt. A single finger pressed into Edge’s entrance, parting the folds of psuedoflesh. “stars, you’re tight.” It didn’t sound like a compliment or a complaint—he sounded surprised. He shifted, but Edge’s grip tightened when he tried to pull away.

Rus froze, one hand resting on Edge’s hipbone. The other curled around his cheekbone. “edge? you are okay, right?”

Sockets shut, Edge refused to look at him. “You can’t stop. You _can’t_.”

It was the wrong answer. Rus’ whole body went rigid atop him. He inhaled slowly, and Edge tightened his grip, claws tearing at his clothing. Carefully— ~~too carefully~~ —Rus said, “we don’t have to stop. it’s okay, edge, i’m not going to leave you. i promised to take care of you, right? and i don’t break my promises. so you just tell me what’s wrong, and we’ll fix it, okay? this is supposed to feel good for you.”

A bitter, strangled laugh bubbled up, choking him. It did feel good. That was part of the problem. It felt too good. It was too much. It felt like he was drowning, like the floor was slipping out from under him and there was nothing he could do to catch himself. 

He was helpless, and no part of him could enjoy that, no matter how his body responded.

Yet, despite Rus’ earnestness, Edge couldn’t articulate any of that. He just knew that everything felt wrong, even though it felt so good at the same time. “Hate this,” he finally said, mumbling into Rus’ hoodie. He scented him, taking comfort in the familiar smell of honey and cigarettes and _Rus._

Rus didn’t know what to say. He settled into a more comfortable position. He petted Edge’s skull, the touch soothing. “it’s okay, edgelord. we’ll figure this out. we’ll fix it. it’s okay. i’m not leaving you.” His body blanketed Edge’s, and there was a comfort in that. Edge’s grip eased, falling to Rus’ hips. It was good to be so close, to feel the weight and heat of him. But it just wasn’t enough. His soul ached, and his whole body felt like it was on fire. 

“Need—“ He clenched his teeth, still unable to say what it was he needed. 

“whatever you need,” Rus murmured, still petting his skull. His breathing was rough and somewhat unsteady. For the first time, Edge started to realize that he wasn’t the only one affected. He could feel the fine tremor in Rus’ bones as he held himself still atop him. Conjured magic bulged at the crotch of his pants, and his own nodes were lit with orange magic.

Experimenting, Edge scented his throat, delicately licking his neck. He began laving at his vertebrae when Rus jolted and swore. “fuck! edge—!” He bit and sucked at a spot on the underside of his jaw and was rewarded by Rus grinding his clothed cock into his clit. 

Unprepared, Edge moaned aloud, gripping his hips. His soul pulsed erratically, and he could feel it leaking fluid down his spine, trickling slowly to his sacrum. He fidgeted. It felt dirty and gross, but it also lit a fire along every bone it touched. His sacrum ached, and his pussy clenched. He _needed_ and, more importantly, he needed Rus to be just as uncontrolled as he felt. 

His hands slipped under Rus’ hoodie, rubbing over his ribcage and scritching at the places were his ribs joined his spine. Rus choked out a moan, swearing softly. “edge— _edge_ , you gotta—“ He was panting now, his hips flexing. “—fuck, edge, i don’t know what the hell you want from me. you’re making me crazy!” He sounded desperate and needy and off-balance.

_Good_.

Edge tore at Rus’ pants, unbuttoning the top. He reached inside and grasped his cock like a prize. It was thick and hot in his hand, and he desperately wanted to taste it to take it inside to make him cum— Something inside of him purred in pleasure when Rus groaned in response, his fingers curling in the bedclothes. “edge.” He said his name like a plea, and the purring became audible. 

“Better,” he said, nipping at his jawbone.

“you—!” Rus choked. “you asshole. fine, i think i get it. you know, some day, you’re really going to have to see someone about those control issues.”

“Not today.” He was still purring, still running one hands down Rus’ ribs and spine. The other squeezed his cock possessively. 

“where do you want me?”

“Here.” He wrapped one leg around his hips to demonstrate. 

Panting, Rus nodded. “okay, but let me prep you—“ E dge guided the head of his cock to his entrance. Rus jolted, teasing them both. They both whimpered, and Edge’s claws hooked around his ribs, scoring them. “fuck!”

Nonetheless, Edge urged him inside, inhaling sharply at the pinch of pain as the head breached him. Shaking, Rus clenched the bedclothes and swore into the sheets in between promises not to move. Edge just turned his head to take in his scent and dropped his other hand to Rus’ coccyx, teasing the fine bones. “oh, you—! you are not making this easy!”

Edge nipped at his throat, teasing his teeth along the bone. He fingered his sacral foramina and rubbed his thumb along his sacrum. Rus sobbed as his hips jerked, pushing deeper inside. Edge moaned aloud. His walls gripped his cock as if afraid to let it go. Any hint of pain had faded into memory. “More,” he hissed into Rus’ acoustic meatus, urging him forward. “Need you inside me. _Now_.”

Rus’ hips stuttered, then snapped home all at once. Edge bit his collarbone, and Rus cried out. His soul rioted. Again, it was too much. A wave of heat washed through his mana lines, and Rus’ cock seemed to burn inside him, source and kindling both. He felt achingly full, like he couldn’t take a breath, like he’d been empty before and never known. A weak, “fuck,” beside him reminded him that Rus had promised not to move without his go-ahead. He could feel the strain in every bone atop him, taut and tight and burning almost as hot as his own. 

He couldn’t release him yet. He still needed to adjust. And besides, the idea of Rus withdrawing, leaving him gutted and empty, was hard to fathom. “Stay with me.” His voice was too raw, exposing too much of his soul. He swallowed hard, thighs wrapped tight around Rus’ hips. “ _Stay_.”

“i-i will. ‘m here. not-not going anywhere. promise, precious, i promise. won’t leave won’t leave i won’t i _won’t_.” His words were a desperate litany, echoing Edge’s own need. 

Something within him unknotted, releasing another wash of heat through his soul and down his spine. His soul was leaking, the fluid pooling around his spine. It got into every crack and crease. Later, it would start to itch and he’d feel dirty and disgusted by the crust of spent mana. For now, it only stoked the fire threaded through his every bone and mana line. 

Finally, when his pelvis started to twitch and search for friction, he said, “ _Move_.”

Rus sobbed in relief, pulling out until only the tip of his cock connected them. Edge urged him back in, not willing to lose that bit of connection. Rus’ head bowed over his, sweat dripping from his temples. Edge pulled him down to kiss it away when it reached his jawbone, tasting salt and mana and Rus.

Rus groaned, and his mouth began to run away with him. “fuck, edge, need you. need this.  fuck, i didn’t think, didn’t know—“ He gasped, hips pumping. “you feel so good, precious. so good. you feel it too, right? you feel it, don’t you?”

His eyelights were searching and desperate. As if afraid of what he might find, he ducked his head too soon. Edge‘s fingers twitched, longing to reach for him, but something held him back. Just then, Rus swallowed and adjusted himself. “gonna make you cum,” he said, “gonna make this good for you.” He shut his sockets, as if in prayer. “promise, edgelord. and i don’t break my promises.”

He was close enough now for a kiss. Edge leaned up and said, “Prove it,” before kissing him hard.

Rus surged into him in every way. His mouth burned and his cock throbbed and he reached between them to circle his clit. Edge moaned into his mouth, and Rus seemed to take it in drink it down _consume him_. For a terrifying moment, it was all _too_ _much_ and Edge’s soul pulsed frantically, torn between panic and pleasure.

Then the searing heat in his soul crested and broke, tearing a cry from him. His toes curled and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe. Above him, Rus sounded victorious. “yeah, babe, like that. just like that. cum for me, precious. that’s right. fuck you’re beautiful, so fucking—“ His hips stuttered and his back bowed, and he slammed his hips home. Liquid warmth flooded Edge’s pussy, and blissfully, wonderfully, his head cleared for the first time in too long. 

He stroked along Rus’ spine as he came, fingering his sacrum until Rus choked and begged him to stop. He tried to roll off of Edge before his strength gave out, but Edge wrapped an arm around his ribs and pulled him down. “You said you’d stay,” he growled. “Already breaking your promises, Swapshit?”

Bones rubbing together and the whole of his weight pressing on Edge, Rus said, “this can’t...” His ragged breathing left his reply broken and unsteady. “...can’t be com...comfortable for you.” E dge gripped him firmly, allowing no movement. Sighing, Rus settled in, trying to find a comfortable position. “i’ll stay....only because i know...know you won’t wanna...stay like this for long. gonna hafta clean up sooner rather than later.”

Edge grumbled at that, but satisfaction surged through him nonetheless. Rus was staying with him. In _their_ nest. Their scents melded and mingled, and he purred with the knowledge. 

He didn’t think about the future. For the moment, he simply savored the peace that flooded him, calming the wildfire in his soul. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...you wouldn’t believe how hard it was to write this chapter. I nearly gave up, honestly.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rus and Edge cuddle.
> 
> Plus a bonus shitpost ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: Body fluids, pining, unresolved emotional tension.
> 
> (Credit to Ollie for help with the shitpost ending.)

Edge finally allowed Rus to get up a while later so they could at least clean up a little. He didn’t seem happy that Rus wanted to get food and water, though. His brow-bones creased and he huffed in disapproval, but reluctantly, he led the way to the kitchen, bones tense and eyelights searching the room as if he expected to find someone waiting to pounce on them while they raided the pantry.

On second thought, that was probably exactly what he was afraid of, and Rus couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness that Edge was, well, _on edge_ when he should rightfully be blissed out and relaxed. Edge stuck close to him as he gathered more water, as well as a few simple staples to snack on. He also managed to snag his phone before Edge tugged him back to the bedroom. With another huff, he raised his control hand and summoned bones to guard the door.

“you know you don’t need to do that.”

Edge ignored him, pushing him back into the nest. Rus allowed himself to be pressed into the mattress and the layers of soft material, grateful that Edge had promptly discarded or at least buried any material with spent mana on it. The nest was clean and dry and cozy—exactly what a nest should be.

Edge seemed to hesitate, though, wary eyelights on the door. “c’mon, edgelord. you barred it. we’re safe. no one’s getting in here.” And if they did, Rus suspected they wouldn’t live long to regret it. “don’t you want to join me?” He patted the spot beside him, and thankfully, it worked. Edge crawled back into the blankets, though he remained vigilant.

“are you hungry?” Edge glanced at him, but turned back to the door. Rus quirked a brow-bone. Monsters in heat were usually ravenous—feeding and fucking were typically their main focus. Then again, he should know by now that Edge was determined to be as abnormal and difficult as possible. “well, i’m hungry...” he muttered, grabbing an orange from the small pile of food. He peeled it quickly, watching Edge. He was still too tense for Rus’ liking. His thumb punctured one wedge of the orange, and he smirked a little. “oh!” he said, raising his voice. “oops! how clumsy!”

Edge turned to look at him—whether he caught Rus’ teasing tone was unimportant at this juncture—and his eyelights dilated when he caught Rus licking his fingers. “What are you doing?” His voice was pitched low like a threat, but his gaze was fixed on Rus’ fingers. 

“eating. want some?” He peeled a wedge of orange off and held it out. 

He wasn’t entirely sure what he expected, but he hadn’t thought Edge would grip his wrist in one hand while delicately taking the orange with his mouth. His teeth scraped gently over his distal phalanges, and Rus swallowed hard when Edge’s eyelights lifted to meet his. Soul hammering, Rus said, “see? knew you’d be hungry.”

Edge closed the distance between them, caging Rus against the mattress. Rus offered up another orange wedge. This time, Edge didn’t grab his wrist, just dipped his head to take it from Rus’ fingers. The worn hoodie he wore was soaked through in the front, his soul still dripping. Rus braced himself. Edge was probably already ready for another round, but he wanted to coax some food and water into him first. 

“here.” He held the orange out to him, knowing this would devolve very quickly if the hand feeding continued. He took it, but didn’t eat. Rus grabbed a water bottle and cracked it open, offering it after he took a drink. “orange you thirsty too?”

The pun garnered no reaction, which was probably not a good sign. Edge was looking at the orange again, like it was an especially intriguing piece of a much larger puzzle. Then he turned his gaze on Rus, as if he were the puzzle in need to solving. He swallowed. “water you looking at me for?”

Edge’s sockets narrowed, and he settled himself on Rus’ lap, bare legs folded neatly alongside his. Rus’ gaze darted to his pelvis, to the glimmer of magic cradled there, then he fixed his eyelights firmly on his face. Edge peeled an orange segment from the rest of the fruit, then leaned in, holding it to Rus’ mouth. 

To say this wasn’t going to plan was a _massive_ understatement. Then again, Rus wasn’t really the type to plan. He liked to stroll in, look around, and shrug to himself when everything, inevitably, went spectacularly to shit.

He opened his mouth and allowed Edge to feed him. He tried his best to keep it chaste, but his soul was already humming in his acoustic meati. Edge was a solid, steady weight atop him, and he was close enough that Rus could feel his breath on his jawbone, could feel the heat radiating off him. 

He barely tasted the orange, his mouth flooding with fresh mana. 

Smirking, Edge licked the juice from his fingers. Rus swallowed. 

“fuck.”

“ _Y_ es _.”_

Edge leaned in to kiss him, and Rus forgot about trying to get him to eat.

-

Round two blended into round three, and then it finally seemed like Edge was ready to settle down for the night. Rus was grateful for the chance to rest—his magic was strained and achy, despite being the penetrating partner, and he didn’t think he could last another round without assistance. Edge settled beside him, his back to Rus so he could watch the door. 

He wanted to reach out and run his hand down Edge’s spine, or fold his arm over his chest and press close. Something held him back, though. There was an inherent intimacy in seeing another monster through their heat, but Rus was too conscious of the fact that Edge hadn’t asked for his help. Not until his scent and proximity had driven Edge from isolation. Rus didn’t want to take more liberties than he already had. Somehow, holding him as he slept seemed far more intimate than letting him ride his cock.

So Rus held himself back, simply listening as Edge’s breathing evened out. 

Unable to sleep despite the pull of exhaustion—it seemed like his curse, to be unable to sleep when he truly needed to—he grabbed his phone and scrolled through his messages, ignoring the big clock on the face that read ‘1:00AM’ like a judgment. 

Hook had texted, asking if they’d fucked yet or not. This he deleted. Papyrus had asked if he needed more food recommendations—he answered that with a quick, ‘yes!’, aware that Edge had frequently pressed the food back at him whenever Rus tried to get him to eat—and then he saw the text from Doc, his Undyne.

He opened it quickly, hoping she had some answers for him—and, with luck, advice. 

As was her usual, Doc sent a veritable essay, which he skimmed hopefully. ‘ There’s lots of reasons a monster might not nest during heat. During their first heat, a monster can be too confused and disoriented to attempt it. Some monsters just don’t. Most often, it’s because they don’t feel safe in their surroundings—usually due to stress or past trauma. After the war, it was pretty common with returning soldiers.’

Rus’ fist tightened. He hated the Fell ‘verses. Hated the mark they’d left on the people he cared about.

‘Usually, if they’re not completely disoriented, they’ll den instead—they’ll find enclosed spaces, barricade entrances, and generally try to hide themselves and their chosen mate.’ He could actually see Doc blushing as she typed the last few words, and he couldn’t help smiling softly, despite his lingering sadness. ‘Does that help? Are you okay?’

He hesitated before replying, assuring her that it was definitely helpful and everything was fine. He probably couldn’t convince her that he had no particular reason for asking, but he had no intention of sharing details—if he knew they’d stay with Doc, he might have, but she and Hook had grown close, and he didn’t trust the Fell monster not to wheedle it out of her. 

He hit send, then settled back against the pillows and blankets, clicking between Twitter and Instagram to catch up on anything he might have missed. And hoping sleep would eventually catch up with him.

Beside him, Edge started to shift in his sleep. Rus glanced at him, but didn’t react until he heard his breathing grow labored. “edge?” He sat up just as Edge started to pull in on himself, curling into a fetal position. Rus hesitated before touching him. “hey, are you awake?”

Edge didn’t speak, just gave a clipped nod. 

“what’s wrong?”

For several (labored) breaths, Edge didn’t reply. Then, through clenched teeth, he said, “My soul.”

Immediately, Rus understood, wincing. “we can go again,” he offered, “it might settle.”

Edge shook his head emphatically, his brow-bones drawn down and his eyelights hard. “Just wanna sleep,” he growled, one hand clawing at his chest—as if that would quiet his soul.

Carefully, Rus inched closer. “can i try something else?”

Edge turned his head to glare in suspicion, but another cramp made him wince. Finally he rasped, “I doubt you could make it worse.” I t was probably the closest thing he’d get to an invitation. He closed the distance between them and molded his body to Edge’s. His bones locked up immediately. “What are you doing?”

“am i making it worse?” It was half challenge, half genuine question. When Edge didn’t protest further, he ran his hand over Edge’s throat and down his sternum, avoiding any nodes that might stimulate him further. “monster heat is about forging bonds,” he explained softly, reaching up to touch his temple. Edge flinched but didn’t pull away as Rus gently massaged the bone, fingers trailing along his zygomatic arch. He rubbed the place where his jawbone met the rest of his skull, then swiped his thumb over his mandible. “sex is an easy way to relieve it, but it’s not the only way.”

Edge looked at him, searching his eyelights in the dark. Rus’ gaze skittered away from his, some mix of shame and affection making it difficult to meet his eyelights. “I assume that’s why my soul won’t de-manifest.”

Rus swallowed hard, pushing his head up to run his fingers over the underside of his jaw. “yeah. that’s, uh, that’s the idea. soul-play is really the best way to....” He shook his head. “but any kind of touch can help. like this. how’re you feeling now, edgelord?” 

Edge was leaning against him. He wasn’t relaxed, but the unnatural tension had gone out of his bones and his breathing had evened out. “It’s not worse,” he admitted gruffly, shifting a bit.

“oh?” Rus smirked. “it’s not better? don’t worry, edgelord, i can fix that.”

“Wait—“

But Rus was already molding himself to Edge, one leg thrown overtop his to pull him close. He extended one hand over their heads, arm crooked so he could scratch Edge’s coronal suture. The other wrapped around his front, sneaking up and under his borrowed hoodie. Edge _froze,_ but Rus didn’t reach for his soul. Instead, he ran his fingers in soothing patterns over his mana-soaked ribs and sternum. He’d effectively folded himself over Edge, holding him tight and keeping him close. “how’s this?” He murmured the question against his acoustic meatus. “better?”

“Asshole,” Edge grumbled, but he hooked his hand over Rus’ knee, rubbing his tibia with his thumb. He exhaled softly and, despite himself, nestled more comfortably into Rus’ arms. “Get your fucking hand out of my shirt. You made your point.”

“are you sure?” he teased, even as he pulled his hand back. “could try some soul play—then you’d definitely settle down.” As soon as he said it, he wished he could take it back, because he couldn’t get the image of Edge baring his soul out of his head. Stars, he’d love to touch it, taste it. Love to see Edge laid out and totally bare before him, soul exposed and available. Rus squeezed his sockets shut, trying to will the image away. Clearing his throat, he forced a carefree loftiness as he said, “besides, i’m pretty sure that’s not your shirt.”

“You can’t possibly want it back.” His head was turned into the bedding, his tone gruff and...self-deprecating? 

Rus frowned, then he remembered the spreading patch of red across the fabric. The only reason Edge was still wearing it was probably because he knew anything else he put on would be stained in turn. Most monsters preferred to go naked during their heat, so it wasn’t such an issue.

Then again, Edge wasn’t most monsters.

Rus thumbed Edge’s sternum, rubbing small circles into the center of his ribcage. “yeah. it’s old and ratty. perfect for nesting. it’s why i hung onto it. blue’d die of embarrassment if i ever wore it out in public.” Feathering a soft kiss over Edge’s neck, he added, “you should keep it, edgelord—i think i like it better on you anyway.”

He was rewarded with a bright flush that rose from Edge’s chest and reached all the way to his temples, glowing softly. “You—!” Edge huffed, trying to be indignant, but aware that he was blushing bright enough to show. “Shut. Up. Go to sleep.”

“that an order, ‘boss’?”

Edge flipped him off with one hand while he scrabbled at the bedclothes with the other, burying them both. Rus chuckled to himself, bones melding against Edge’s. He nestled in, allowing his sockets to slip closed as he continued to run his clipped claws along the sutures in Edge’s skull and rub his thumb across his chest. It was the perfect position to hear Edge’s breathing settle and to feel the tension go out of his bones. Even after he was thoroughly asleep, Rus pulled him close, savoring the contact. 

Under his hand, he could feel Edge’s soul pulsing peacefully, and if he held his breath, he could hear his own slowing to meet the subtle rhythm. Sleep tugged at him, and for once, he fought it, hoping to savor this moment for just a little longer. 

Too soon, he fell asleep, at ease and at peace.

-

It felt like the longest week of Hook’s life. ~~And not just because she missed her lieutenant like she missed her right hand.~~ “You think they fucked?” she asked her smaller, more timid counterpart.

Doc shrugged, pulling at her windbreaker’s sleeves. “I-I don’t know? May-maybe.”

Hook frowned, crossing their arms. “You said you’d read studies about this. You said it would get their skulls outta their pelvic cavitiesand get the stubborn bastards to confess their feelings.” Doc flushed brilliantly then studied the floor like it held the secrets of the universe. 

“Well. Um. I. Actually....” She fiddled with her sleeves. Hook held herself very still.

“Doc....”

Covering her head, Doc said, “I d-didn’t say studies! N-not _scientific_ studies. J-just accounts.”

Hook growled. “What do you mean, ‘accounts’?”

Doc grimaced, peering at her warily. “An-anecdotal.” Hook groaned, but Doc pressed on, “Th-they report a v-very high success rate! Except...”

Hook stared at her. “‘Except’ what?”

“Well. Except w-when things go...p-poorly.”

“Poorly? What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“Um. D-Don’t worry about it. P-Papyrus—either of them—isn’t the type”

Before Hook could ask for a more elaborate explanation, she saw Rus coming around the corner, on his way to Spinnerette’s for his morning coffee and pastry. “Shhh! Here he comes!” 

She shoved Doc into the alleyway and hugged the wall herself, peering out of the mouth of the alley to survey Rus. She didn’t really expect any outward signs, but she studied his body language anyway, though she noted no obvious differences. He went into the shop, and she watched him get in line. Drumming her fingers on the brickwork, she considered her options. “I’m going in. Stay here.”

“W-wait!” 

Hook ignored her, shoving her hand into her pocket and letting her prosthetic dangle as she crossed the street. She slipped into the cafe and came up behind Rus, asking, “Did you fuck?” 

He jumped, arms flailing, and she snickered. She would never tire of riling this version of Papyrus. He was so soft and sweet. It was hilarious. 

Glaring at her, he straightened his hoodie—as if she’d rumpled it—and angrily shoved his hands into his pockets. “that’s none of your business.” She hooked a finger through the neck of his hoodie, pulling it aside. And grinning when she saw the bite marks. “hey!”

“You did!” she crowed, pumping her fist. “Nice job, sweetpiece!” She held her hand out for a high-five, which he did not deliver. “And here I thought you might not have it in you.”

He stared at her, gaping. “i—what? did you think i was a virgin?”

She brushed that off. “Nah. Just thought you might not have the balls to go for it when you had the chance.” She blinked. “Hey, do skeletons have balls, or—?”

Spinnerette angrily pushed between them, fingers flashing as she used two separate sets of hands to berate them for their very loud, very inappropriate conversation. Rus was bright orange and trying his best to sink into his hoodie by the end of it, but Hook was completely unrepentant. When the Spider finally decided they were well and truly chastised, she took Rus’ order with a huff, and glared until Hook ordered a box of spider donuts for her coworkers at the embassy. Besides, the large order would go a long way toward purchasing a little forgiveness. 

As soon as Spinnerette was back behind the counter, Hook leaned in to Rus and asked, “So? How was it?”

Rus rolled his eyelights and sighed. “it wasn’t—stars! it wasn’t a big deal, alright?” He walked over to a small table and sat heavily in the plush chair. She followed, brows furrowed. “i just—i just helped him out with his heat, okay? it’s nothing. it means nothing.”

She sat down and looked him over. “Let me get this straight.” She laid her hand and her prosthetic on the table. “You two spent an entire week fucking—“

“stars on fire, muffet’s gonna kick us out if you—“

“—and you _didn’t_ admit that you—“

Sockets going wide, Rus clapped his hands over her mouth, searching the cafe frantically for eavesdroppers. She licked his hand and he jerked them away, gaping at her. “weren’t you the captain of the guard back in your ‘verse?”

“Yeah? What’s your point? And, more importantly—why didn’t you seal the deal? I practically handed him to you on a silver platter!”

“i cannot believe i’m saying this, but you are an actual child. and i don’t know what you expected to happen! i was just helping out a friend. that’s all.”

She stood, eye narrowed as she looked down at him. “Well, I guess that answers my earlier question, you ball-less coward.” Mute, Muffet slammed a hand down on the counter and pointed first at Hook and then at the door. Her meaning was very clear. “Alright, alright! I’m going!”

Grumbling under her breath, she marched back outside and to the alley where Doc was waiting. “W-what happened? Did Muffet k-kick you out—?”

“It doesn’t matter. The dickless wonder back there—“ She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “—choked at the moment of truth. We gotta try something else.”

“Are you s-sure we should d-do this? M-maybe we—?”

“If I have to watch my lieutenant stare wistfully at that gutless idiot for two more minutes, I’m going to murder something.”

Doc blinked. “W-wistful? Edge? Are we t-talking about the s-same skeleton, or—“

“Listen, I know wistful when I fucking see it. It’s sickening, and I’m tired it. What else do you have?” She glared down at Doc, arms crossed and brows narrowed. 

Unnerved, Doc began shuffling through her inventory, until she pulled out a sheet of paper. She resettled her glasses and started to read. “Um. Well. Any ch-chance we could convince them t-to be r-roommates? Or open a c-coffee shop? Those s-seem to work out r-rather well.”

Hook grabbed at the list. “Gimme that!” Scanning the sheet, she settled against the wall, becoming more and more frustrated as she rejected scenario after scenario. “Do _any_ of these actually work?!”

Doc shrugged helplessly, her blush deepening. “Um. Well. An-anecdotally? Y-yes...?”

“Hmph.” Hook kept reading, pausing midway down the list. “What’s ‘Hanahaki Disease’?”

Doc’s spine stiffened. “No! That’s-that’s too much!” Interested, Hook lowered the paper and eyed her. 

Her grin was sharp. “Tell me.”

Doc swallowed tightly. “You don’t understand—it-it can be f-fatal! They have to confess their true f-feelings or they _die!”_

“Yeah? Perfect! Edge is stubborn but he’s not stupid—let’s do it!”

“Hook! No!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hook, no.
> 
> -
> 
> This is honestly one of those pieces I could just keep running with, but I don’t have the time. I’m gonna leave it open ended so I can revisit it if I feel like it, or if someone else wants to write a related fic.
> 
> Stay safe, folks!
> 
> (Also, AO3 lost my edits, so there might be some stray asterisks around. Oops.)

**Author's Note:**

> Smut! Yay! 
> 
> (Also, I’m bad at replying to comments, but all comments are very much appreciated!)


End file.
